Identity Theft: The Blair Waldorf Story
by Pretty Guardian
Summary: Based off of the melodrama and true story of Michelle Brown, Blair C. Waldorf, beautiful, rich, and intellectual has her identity stolen by a seemingly okay person until she finds out the girl is so obsessed with her, she literally embodies Blair's life.


Chapter 1

Serena Van Der Woodsen and Blair Waldorf were shopping at Henri Bendel's looking at beauty products and fragrances. Blair's hair was tied up in a silk red ribbon and she wore her preppy clothes: a crisp, white shirt, a blue skirt, black jacket, and red ballet flats whereas Serena abandoned the preppy look long ago and copied (though she didn't need to) Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen's Boho-chic look. To be honest, it was completely embarrassing to Blair; she loved Serena very much and even though they've been bitches together and separately, Blair still wished that she could control Serena like a puppet. But Serena wasn't controllable: she was like a tornado going wherever she felt and doing whatever she wanted usually destroying anything and everything in her path. Serena sprayed some Spring Blossom & Agave Eau De Toilette on her slender wrist.

"Oh no, my dear," a woman said. She walked towards Serena and Blair. "That scent isn't for someone as beautiful as you." The woman had a heavy Middle Eastern accent and she smelled of tahini paste and falafel. She held Serena's hand and noticed the sapphire diamond encrusted ring on her middle finger.

"What a beautiful ring!" she exclaimed. "Very classy!" Blair rolled her eyes. A beautiful sapphire ring did NOT go with the Boho-chic look. Blair sprayed some perfume on her wrist hoping the cashier would notice but she didn't. Blair also hated how Serena stole the spotlight without trying.

"This scent is more you," the Middle Eastern girl woman said. "Passion fruit…you seem like a passionate woman." Again, the brunette rolled her eyes.

"Passionate…no…..slutty, a resounding yes," Blair whispered. She looked at her Dior Graphic Berry painted nails and saw they were in need of a fresh coat. She applied another coat of Baby Rose Dior lipstick on her pert and petite lips. Serena found herself being torn away from Blair and headed towards a tall man with sexy, yet messy brown hair.

"Here's your model, Michael," she said, pawning Serena off on him. Blair shook her head, her soft curls touching her shoulder.

"You're beautiful and blonde," Michael said. "And that's what we need for our shoot." Blair stormed out of the store after she bought her perfume. She hated that Serena returned from Ireland.

Serena wondered where Blair stormed off to. Sometimes, Blair could be so unreasonable. It wasn't like Serena asked these people to fawn all over her and feed her French cheeses and olives and take pictures of her. Hey, being blonde, pretty, and privileged had its advantages…and disadvantages like when people like Dan Humphrey can't get over you and obsess over you. Serena wished that she could be somebody else; in fact, she envied Blair because she was so studious and so unknown to the outside world. She could go to Starbucks, get a coffee (caramel macchiato with a little foam, whipped cream, and a blueberry scone) and not get pictures taken of her by random men and women. She liked (and disliked) how Blair complained about not being noticed and how she usually made situations all about herself. Blair was selfish, demanding, and needy and therefore, no man could ever stay with her long term. All her relationships went sour. No man could satisfy her period. Whereas Serena was the same way but differently: no man could satisfy her either but it was because she grew bored within a relationship and felt restrained. Blair loved being a one guy girl and having the perfect relationship between a man and a woman. If the man was perfect for Blair, she stuck with him and made sure everyone knew he was taken and that was the part about Blair (along with her other flaws) that made men run from her and into the arms of women like Serena. Serena tried desperately to understand Blair but she couldn't. Blair wanted, needed, and desired perfection in every way. It was amazing that somebody hadn't done a documentary on her or tried to be like her in some sick, twisted way.

"Blair, I hope we can put that all behind us," Serena said suddenly over their lunch at a New York not-so- hot spot called "Picasso's". It was a cute, little Italian place that Serena picked out. For her, pasta puttanesca (literally, "whore's spaghetti" because it was spicy and hot just like a whore) and for Blair a salad with strawberries and balsamic vinaigrette and a glass of iced tea with slices of lemon.

"Such as what?" Blair said, playing oblivious loving the slight annoyed look on Serena's face.

"All that fuss that people made about me," Serena said, twirling the spaghetti on her fork. "It's not like I like it. Sometimes I wish I could be invisible, like you." Blair glared up from her salad.

"Oh, thanks, Serena," Blair said, snippily. Serena shook her head.

"Look, I didn't mean it like that," Serena said quickly. "I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings. I just wish I wasn't in the spotlight." Blair wolfed some more of her salad and then chewed on a thick piece of baguette. She really didn't want to talk about it right now.

"Hey ladies. Anything else like some biscotti?" the woman said. She had blonde highlights mixed in with some of her natural dirty brown hair. Her eyes were brown and her English was perfect even with the Hispanic accent.

"Can I get a chocolate torte?" Serena asked and then she saw the annoyed look on Blair's face because they were due to go back to her luxury apartment (although she still had paperwork to re-fill and give back to the rental office) and finish decorating her room. Then, they would eat pizza later on in the night and watch those old, boring black and white movies that Blair loved or practice French for Blair's exam; at Yale, of course. Another thing that irritated Serena when it came to Blair: She had to control everything. Everything was on schedule, on point, no event ever spontaneous. What would happen if something _unplanned_ overtook Blair's life? How would she cope?

"That's a beautiful ruby ring," the woman said, pointing at Blair's finger. Blair looked into the woman's brown eyes and then at her name tag.

"Thank you, Claire," Blair said with that hint of superiority and shined her pearly white, perfect teeth at her. Claire stared at Blair's whole being: her petite, well-built body, fox like face, slim and glossed lips and her new IPhone.

"You're really pretty. Your outfit and hair and everything," Claire said. "A special occasion?"

"Oh, no. I always dress like this. People go based on looks, you know," Blair said, thoroughly enjoying the attention. She eyed Claire's outfit and kept her negativity to herself. Besides, the waitress was doing a better job of cheering her up than Serena. Maybe these "non-ritzy" places weren't so bad after all especially if people like Claire worked here.

"Well, I'll bring back your chocolate torte and your bill," Claire said. She walked off without a word to or about Serena, leaving Blair glowing as though she'd been impregnated or something.

"See? She noticed you and didn't say not one thing about me," Serena said.

"Oh, do I detect a note of bitterness?" Blair quipped. Serena shook her blonde head.

"Not at all. It felt good." Claire came back with the bill and chocolate torte as promised. Blair pulled out the cash for the meal and dessert and a big generous tip for Claire. See? Even bitches have their good days….as long as someone makes them.


End file.
